A flash of wonder crossed the other's mind. "He imagined--" Instinctively Maxwell's opening mildness stiffened into a colder dignity. "I fear we may be making an altogether improper claim upon you," he said quietly; "but this morning, about an hour ago, Ancoats's mother came to us with the news that he had left her two days ago, and was now discovered to be at Trouville, where he has a chalet, waiting for this girl, of whom we all know, to join him. You will imagine Mrs. Allison's despair. The entanglement is in itself bad enough. But she--I think you know it--is no ordinary woman, nor can she bring any of the common philosophy of life to bear upon this matter. It seems to be sapping her very springs of existence, and the impression she left upon myself--and upon Lady Maxwell"--he said the words slowly--"was one of the deepest pity and sorrow. As you also know, I believe, I have till now been able to bring some restraining influence to bear upon the girl, who is of course not a girl, but a very much married woman, with a husband always threatening to turn up and avenge himself upon her. There is a good man, one of those High Church clergymen who interest themselves specially in the stage, who has helped us many times already. I have telegraphed to him, and expect him here before long. We know that she has not yet left London, and it may be possible again, at the eleventh hour, to stop her. But that--" "Is not enough," said Tressady, quickly, raising his head. "You want someone to grapple with Ancoats?" Face and voice were those of another man--attentive, normal, sympathetic. Maxwell observed him keenly. "We want someone to go to Ancoats; to represent to him his mother's determination to leave him for good if this disgraceful affair goes on; to break the shock of the girl's non-arrival to him, if, indeed, we succeed in stopping her; and to watch him for a day or two, in case there should be anything in the miserable talk of suicide with which he seems to have been threatening his mother." "Oh! Suicide! Ancoats!" said Tressady, throwing back his head. "We rate him, apparently, much the same," said Maxwell, drily. "But it is not to be wondered at that the mother should be differently affected. She sent you"--the speaker paused a moment--"what seemed to me a touching message." Tressady bent forward. "'Tell him that I have no claim upon him--that I am ashamed to ask this of him. But he once said some kind words to me about my son, and I know that Ancoats desired his friendship. His help _might_ save us. I can say no more.'" Tressady looked up quickly, reddening involuntarily. "Was Fontenoy there--did he agree?"